ALIENS: Living the City
by Reef-Shark
Summary: I live in a distant city, too arrogant to accept the strange things that happen around me, thinking of them as conspiracy. Now I find myself consumed by a world I can't fully understand, and don't even know if I ever will.
1. Chapter 1

My clock started its morning chime at around 5:30 A

**Chapter 1: Kyle Delso – March 5****, ****2156**

My clock started its morning chime at around 5:30 A.M., the typical time in which I woke myself and prepared for the day ahead, yet this in particular day – March 5, 2156 – I couldn't quite bring myself to the task pulling myself from the comfort of my sheets, so I let the annoying piece of machinery continue its little song, its high pitched ring failing to rattle my nerves. Maybe it was time to program a new tune, I had gotten so used to the sound that it now fail to irritate me to the point of leaving the confines of my room. No doubt I'd have to find I new, even more irritating tone for this blasted piece of machinery. Eventually however my mind took control of my body and out of the bed I went.

After a nice warm shower, I through some bread into the toaster, and went back to my room to lay out my choice in clothing for the day. A nice clean, white dress shirt and slacks would do nicely. Slipping into these clothes went by quick, and I struggled with the tie for a second or two before finally getting it right.

When I reentered the kitchen my nostrils were quickly filled with the smell of smoke, which of course ended up being my toast, stuck in the machine nice and cozy.

"Shit," I murmured under my breath, grabbing a fork and quickly flicking the burnt squares out before looking over at the clock. 5:42, no time to make another batch, so throwing caring the burning pieces of bread in my hands I made my way out the door and ate them on the walk down to the subway. I needed too buy a new toaster anyway, so maybe this was a good excuse.

On my way to the work, I couldn't help but notice the magazines that were laid out on the Blue Strike trains rackets. One's cover involved a possible affair by some USCM general, another involved whether or not a female tennis player was a man or not, and of course their was the one about government conspiracies (there always had to be ones of those somewhere onboard).

Always interested in this type of paranoia induced bullshit I picked it up, its titles being "The Lies of Corruption", which I had to admit had one of the poorest titles I ever heard. First story was that the USCM was covering up a war with a three headed alien race that sucked out people's brains, which had me laughing out loud, catching the attention of several other passengers, and another about how a virus was wiping out most of the outer colonies.

The final one actually caught my attention most, and this one read that the tragedy that had occurred on the colony Hadley's Hope a few years back had not been caused by a meltdown, but by an unknown alien species that had viciously killed the entire population and the USCM rescue team. 'Oh come on, how ridiculous', I thought to myself. I saw the news coverage when that even had happened, their hadn't been a rescue team because the place was blown sky high. No need to rescue the dead. Alien species, everything these paranoid fruits called a conspiracy always had to have aliens thrown in somewhere. These people just had to much time on their hands. Probably saw fast food commercials and thought that the government was feeding them people.

I laughed about that thought for a second. 'People Burgers Traumatize Youth', now that's a story I'd read. Tired of this alien bullshit, it loses is humor after awhile, and readings these things I expect to get a laugh, and aliens just weren't funny anymore.

The train finally arrived at my destination where I promptly disposed of the tabloid, walking towards the offices. Wilbin's sales, that's where I had to drag my sorry ass every day. Had to talk to disgruntled clients about things they bough and now wanted to bitch about with the threat of suing the company . How fun that always was, especially when the individual had been drinking, then it made for some excitement.

As I entered I bumped into my friend, Jerry who I promptly slapped on the back.

"Heya Jerry," I said good naturedly, with a smile.

"You're late," he grunted in response stirring his cup of coffee is a stale manner that for some reason irritated me for reasons I really don't understand, but I couldn't help but thinking about grabbing it and stabbing him in the eye with that frickin' thing.

"What's wrong?" I asked, even though at this point I was as enthusiastic about talking to Jerry, because you could judge his mood for the day simply by the way he responded. In fact I didn't even want to _really _know what was wrong, I just didn't want him thinking I was a total asshole.

"My wife's leavin' me, Kyle," he said angrily, glaring directly at me . He was a short, plump little man, defiantly wouldn't come across as big as myself, but his eyes could throw a mental punch, which made me flinch in response. "Something a little skimp like you wouldn't understand. I'm going to be taking some time off now, and get away from this fucking inferno."

"Well I'm sorry," I said taking a gulp of saliva. I didn't care about his personal life, but getting in a fight with this guy would only throw my day's pace off even more, so screw it I'll just play nice. Just don't say anything stupid like 'is there anything I can do?' I knew I needed to stay out of this shit at _all_ costs.

"Well, Kyle, you better get up to work now. Boss has someone waiting to gripe for ya." And with that Jerry left the building, never to be seen by me or my co-workers ever again. Of course at the time I didn't really care I had another day of my life to waste away on worthless clients who wanted nothing more then to screw around with me and make my life a living hell.

After four six consecutive hours of bullshit, 6:00 all the way to 12:00 I had to put up with complaints ranging from air conditioners, light bulbs and televisions, and every single time the idiot who had come to complain thought I was some sort of God damn repair man. I don't know how to assemble this shit, I just know whether or not we're gonna give you any money or not.

I couldn't have been more relived when the lunch break finally came around, I practically jumped out of my shoes! This had been one of the worst days on the job in years, but at least I got to leave the business early, no more complaints for Kyle Delso, no more today then there'd be that nice weekend. For two days I'd control my life.

That being said, I didn't hate my job, but nothing could beat a nice two day break, and I mean _nothing_. When I reached the subway I felt like a new man, completely free of the system.

Making myself right at home on the train ride back home I found myself sprawled across my chair in the most relaxed position possible, when suddenly the entire cabin seemed to shutter violently. People were falling out of their seats (myself included!) magazines and drinks slid right across the smooth surface of the floor and then everything became smooth again. Of course soon I had to put up with cries from various other passengers who accused the tremors of being the work of terrorists or some other unlikely chain of events. I simply decided to block it all out and wait until the train stopped, and then all I did was simply step off and walk towards my apartment, open the door and make myself right at home.

Once I shut the door and locked it behind me I began to slowly make my way into my home, undoing my clothes as I did so, grabbing the remote and turning on the television monitor as I changed into something more casual.

"-the supply craft which plowed across central avenue, demolishing two buildings and killing fifty people has yes to be entered by government officials, but they assure us that they are handling this calmly."

Looking over at the screen with a peak of entrance I sat down on the couch and began to intently watch the program. Well, now I know what caused the earthquake.

"-The vessel 'Grapes of Thunder' was carrying a large load of metals, and other natural resources and was expected to dock within the city's port at 1:30 this afternoon, but complications arose when dock workers failed to make contact with the pilot or crew. The vessel, apparently out off control sped down and crashed through the city. As you can see behind me we have several government officials and members of the USCM ready to check and see if this was the work of terrorists or a system malfunction. More on this story as it develops."

"Heh," I laughed to myself. Could you believe that? Space ship crash on an inhabited world, what were the odds of that? One in one thousand? What about crashing into the city? One in one billion? This certainly makes for an interesting start to a weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I was still in the confines of my apartment three hours after the incident involving the crashed spacecraft, and quite frankly didn't give a shit about it, but since it was all the news was willing to cover it was all I was able to get off the ol' television. A USCM squad had gone in to check it out while to police set up a barricade blocking off the area. It was all very fun to watch, but personally at this time I would've much rather have been listening to my favorite talk show host. After a stressful week of work I could care less about this local disaster. What I needed right now was some fucking laughs, and the grim news anchorwomen certainly failed when it came to brightening ones mood. As sexy as the bitch was on the eyes, her voice could make the happiest person grief stricken. It was times like this I wished I had paid to extra dollar to receive those precious extra channels which would allow me to avoid getting stuck to the news channel.

Worst of all after three hours of spacecraft disaster coverage you'd begin to wish they'd mention some murder, rape or any other nasty little inconvenience for someone other than drunken flight crews that plowed their giant metal vessels into the downtown streets. I guess that's why I couldn't work in news coverage, I just can't stay on the same subject for _that_ long or it begins to become so very, very boring. It could've caused a genocide for all I know, but that doesn't mean covering the hell out of it makes it anymore interesting.

But, after a few more drinks I soon found myself fast asleep on my sofa without a care in the world. That night I did have an interesting dream involving me and an exotic woman from some beach paradise. She wore a nice short skirt and a tight outfit that hardly left anything to the imagination. Oh yes, my dreams were certainly a much needed change of pace when compared to the repetitive news stations.

Saturday morning I woke to the sound of…well nothing, since I turned the television off before I began my slumber there was now noise to bother me in my apartment. Scratching my back and with a yawn I began to stumble off to the shower, quickly stripping myself of my clothes and letting the hot water converge on me, helping me ever so slowly wake from my trance like sleep. Using the bar of soap I began scrubbing away to try and eliminate the smell of my sweaty clothes and the beverages which I'd consumed so many of the previous night.

When I had finished my shower I and pulled my boxers back on I walked out of the bathroom and towards my bedroom (ignoring my toothbrush, since I never felt a need to use it during the weekend) and plopping myself down on the still made up sheets. Turning the television on I knew instantly what to expect, but was completely surprised to be met with different bad news. Four missing persons were today's top story, a mother of two and her two daughters and an elderly old man who ran a gas station. All of them had been here yesterday and were gone today. Well, apparently four missing persons in a city of five thousand were enough to get the media's attention off the shuttle crash. I really didn't pay much attention as I began to write away in my notebook which I had kept for awhile (in fact it's what I'm 

using right now) to jot down various ideas for short stories, before I found myself randomly writing about mankind's stupidity.

Here's what I wrote on that slow morning:

_I somehow managed to complete another work week without driving my boss insane, and all I have to say is people are a stupid bunch. Look at our media, all we ever cover are the negatives in life. Yesterday fucking SPACE SHIP crashed into the middle of downtown, I mean what are the odds of that? Of course the media has to blow it out of proportion saying terrorism, or faulty parts. The crew was probably drunk for Christ's sake! What's the point of making a fuss over this? When someone drives a vehicle horribly the first assumption is alcohol so why isn't it the same with spacecrafts? Someone please explain to me why they're saints compared to drivers? Like they don't drink; bullshit, they're all like filthy truckers the lot of them. That's all they do to, ship huge things for clients, nothing more, nothing less. _

_Now some people have gone missing and now the media like a flock of birds swarm to it like an old women spreading seed on the pavement. It's so pathetic it could make someone sick. Why don't we get any positive news from the news? I mean seriously, I want some positives for once. Show me a news channel that cares the positives and I'll show you someone who doesn't lie on an average basis. _

Well, I liked to complain, so this was a typical moment for me. I thought writing my viewpoints was so cool and made me so very special, when actuality I'd come to understand how very worthless my opinions really were. But, it was a pleasant thought to feel like the big fish in a small pond. Looking back at it I think I wrote to angrily, and in a way I was just as bad as the media because I concentrated on making my points using negative words and insulting terms. Oh well, I was rather naive and I've changed since then.

Walking to my kitchen after my morning anger venting I prepared myself some waffles, which I hate as soon as they'd left the toaster. Soon I was plopped on the sofa, yet again watching a sci-fi show focused on the supernatural. After watching this show for quite some time I switched back to the news. They were giving the weather report (Severe chance of thunderstorms) before moving to the bad news. Suddenly the list had increased since this morning. Now there were ten missing persons. Now they had my God damn attention, that was not exactly normal, especially for the local crime rate, which was relatively low, but I still didn't pay it much seriousness.

In response I found myself writing:

_Ten people have gone missing in the last twenty-four hours, now that's what I call some creepy stuff. What are the odds of ten people losing their heads in a town like this? Honestly I have no clue what the odds are, but they can't be very high, I know that for damn sure. Hope they're found, because it would be a shame if they weren't. Wouldn't it just suck to have a family member disappear and then not now where they are, or what happened to them? Scary shit right there, I tell you, scary shit. _

Now entering the afternoon the count rose to seventeen people reported missing and THIS is when it finally became official in my thick head that something was seriously wrong here…but then again maybe 

these were people plowed over by the crash, yeah that was probably it. Casualties whose bodies had yet to be uncovered in the rubble. Anyone _could've_ been at the site where the crash occurred and have been tragically killed in an incredibly violent and unpredictable way.

Now once again I began to arrogantly think about crash coverage by the media and scorn them for using these casualties as a way to still cover the same event as yesterday. I found y self sickened, spouting off curses by the dozen, sure of myself that I'd found the secret to some grand media scare plot originating from the crash. I was now stuck on the concept of their being a scheme to start a mass panic in my city, and the anchormen and women of the news stations were the equivalent of the boy who cried "wolf"! I loved blaming the government and media for so many things in my life and for such a long time I grew very accustomed to insulting them whenever I got the chance to do so.

Well soon I received a phone call from my brother from across town, Daniel and we began to chat. After we exchanged "hellos" we stated how we were doing, me stating my boring routine and him saying how his wasn't much different. Then we got on the subject of the disappearances.

"Its total horse shit!" I said angrily, "Total, media inflated horse shit."

"Why do you say that?" My older brother asked respectfully, ignoring how aggressively I asserted myself.

"These missing people were obviously casualties of yesterdays crash, but the media, they just want to _sound_ like they're changing the subject, but when actuality these 'missing people' are simply the casualties of the crash."

When I said it I felt like I had delivered a checkmate. A perfect move, which I felt my media-trusting brother certainly couldn't beat.

"Well, I'd have to say you're right, that is unless one of the missing persons just happened to be my friend from across the street. He was nowhere near the crash site; he had the day off, actually."

I felt my face twist into wonderment as my pride got whacked from my body when the notion that I was wrong hit home.

"Oh my, I'm sorry. I take back what I just said."

"It's okay."

Well, I officially felt like asshole of the year by the time this conversation was over, and I didn't quite know what to do now. These people who were popping off the map… maybe they all really weren't crash victims. That's when I felt the first genuine chill I'd had in years shoot across my spine, and it wasn't because of what I thought could've happened to them, it was because for once in my life I couldn't come up with an explanation for it, and that scared me more than anything else. A sense of mental blindness was the worse feeling I had ever experienced. And from that point on that sensation only visited my mind on an average basis.


End file.
